


After All

by emeraldsage85



Series: Absolution Universe [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 05:39:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4907518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldsage85/pseuds/emeraldsage85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war Harry disappears. Everyone else tries to move on with their lives but Ron can't let go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A few days after the war, Harry disappears. One morning everyone at the Burrow wakes up to find he’s absconded in the night with all of his things. Panic ensues, with people speculating wildly about what might have happened until they realize that there is a note posted to the kitchen wall. Ron pulls it down and reads it with some disbelief.

 

_Gone away for a while. Not sure when I’ll return. Don’t look for me. - HP_

 

Molly frets terribly about this and laments the fact that Harry didn’t say goodbye to her. She wonders aloud about all of the places he could be and wrings her hands.

 

“He probably just needs some time away. If we leave him alone for a bit I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Hermione reassures her.

 

 Ron wonders just how long “a bit” is going to take. Not much later Hermione corners Ron in the kitchen one morning and announces that she’s going to Australia to find her parents.

 

“I miss them so much,” she says.

 

“I’ll go with you,” Ron says immediately, “We can look for them together.”

 

“It’s okay, really, you don’t have to,” Hermione says. For a moment she chews her bottom lip nervously, looking as if she’s unsure of what to say. Then she tells him, “I need to do this alone, Ron.”

 

“You’re abandoning me too?” Ron yelps.

 

“I’m not! I promise I’ll write so you’ll know where I am,” Hermione insists.

 

Ron’s at a loss. They’ve spent so long hunting and running and hiding that he has no idea of how to be on his own. He wonders what he’ll even do with himself.

 

“But you’ll come back for me right?”

 

“I don’t know,” Hermione says quietly.

 

Ron feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room as he realizes what she’s implying. He can’t help letting slip, “What about us?”

 

“Ron, I just-“

 

“There isn’t an ‘us’, is there?” Ron interrupts.

 

Hermione shakes her head.

 

“No, there isn’t. I mean thought there could be but it was war and we just sort of…grabbed the nearest person. It was survival. You need to take some time to examine who you really want to be with.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron snaps.

 

Hermione doesn’t answer.

 

“Let’s not hurt each other anymore Ron,” she says in a choked voice, “I need to go now so please don’t be angry with me.”

 

She reaches over to give Ron a hug but he shrugs her off before turning away and stomping up the stairs. He doesn’t even look back as he hears the resounding *crack* of Hermione apparating away.

 

In the weeks that follow Ron doesn’t know what to do with himself. He becomes sullen and withdrawn, choosing to isolate himself from the celebrations going on around him. It doesn’t feel like a victory to him, not when his friends have abandoned him and so many he cares for are dead. When he does emerge beyond the walls of the Burrow it’s mostly to attend funerals.

 

Fred’s funeral is first and it’s the most heart-wrenching affair that Ron has ever been to. Percy, of all people, gives the eulogy because no one else can stand to do it. Molly is so heartbroken that she collapses and has to be taken home early by Bill and Charlie. George refuses to leave the coffin. He can’t bear to see it sink into the ground; for him the finality of it is too much. Arthur has to pry him away and forcibly restrain him as they apparate to the burrow. George’s refusal to leave causes him to get splinched in the process, leaving behind a few stray hairs and one half of an eyebrow.

 

The rest of the mourners cry and remember. Then they pack up their things and head off to more funerals. Ron can’t count the number of funerals he’s attended: Tonks, Remus, Snape, Lavender, Colin… He supposes he could become a professional funeral attendee at this rate.

 

Ron has just entered the Burrow’s kitchen, flooing back from yet another funeral, when a large brown and white barn owl begins pecking at the window. He lets it in, unties the parchment from its leg, and sets it on Errol’s perch. For a moment he can’t bring himself to open it. What if it’s from Harry? What if it’s not from Harry and he’s just stupidly getting his hopes up? Finally Ron decides to bite the bullet and open the letter. He doesn’t know if he should be pleased or disappointed that it’s from Hermione.

 

_Found my parents. They’re living in Broome and have set up shop as local dentists. I’ve brought back their memories and, needless to say, they aren’t happy with what I’ve done to them. We’re getting through it though. It’s beautiful here and I wish I could stay forever. Yesterday we toured the beach on camels and tomorrow I’m going to learn about diving for pearls. I’m not sure when we’ll be back but dad says we have to return soon because he misses home too much. Please let me know that you’re okay. I’ll understand if you’re still angry with me but I just want to know that you’re still alive. And, of course, if you hear from Harry, send an owl immediately._

_-Hermione_

Ron takes the letter upstairs and tries to write a reply. Several times he crosses things out before finally crumpling up the parchment and throwing it into the nearest corner of his room. There’s nothing he can say to adequately describe the crushing pain and loneliness he feels. He wishes he could talk to Harry. The idea of writing Harry a letter has crossed his mind before but he doesn’t even know if his best friend would even read it. A reply is certainly out of the question.

 

Still, it won’t hurt to try Ron muses. He pulls out a fresh piece of parchment and dips his quill into the inkwell but he doesn’t know where to begin. His hand hovers over the page as he contemplates that there’s nothing he can say to make Harry suddenly care about returning. Finally he settles for _I miss you. –R._ before rolling up the parchment and taking it to the kitchen. Ron ties it to the leg of Pigwidgeon, who hoots happily at being given a job to do.

 

“Take this to Harry,” Ron instructs, “Find him and don’t return until you’ve delivered that letter.”

 

Pigwidgeon hoots in response and then dives out through the open window. Ron watches him leave before turning to the barn owl.

 

“I suppose you want a letter too?” he says in an almost accusatory manner.

 

The owl just blinks at him. Ron sighs as he realizes that he won’t be able to ignore Hermione forever. Besides that, she’s the only friend who still wants to talk to him these days. Ron jogs upstairs and un-crumples her letter. In the bottom corner he scribbles _I’m alive_ before rolling it up again. He ties it to the barn owl and all but tosses it out the widow before returning to the solitude of his room once more.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

When Molly suggests that Ron return to Hogwarts he gets angry with her and disappears to a spot by the lake. He doesn’t know how to articulate that Hogwarts seems like a lifetime ago. He’s not a child anymore; worrying about homework, Quidditch, and curfews seems too trivial to bother with now. Molly argues that Ron needs some direction in life but he finds himself feeling numb to the shrill sound of her voice.

 

He’s so consumed by his own thoughts that he barely registers footsteps behind him. In fact, Ron doesn’t even bother to acknowledge George as he sits down in the grass.

 

“Mum have a go at you? He asks.

 

“Yeah,” Ron snorts.

 

“I wouldn’t go back to school either if I were you. There are loads of better things to do with your time,” George says.

 

“Such as?” Ron asks.

 

“Running a joke shop and getting to invent fun things. You never have to take life too seriously until it explodes right in your face,” George says almost nonchalantly.

 

“How can it be worth it? How can any of this be worth it? You spend so many years working towards something together and it all turns to shit,” Ron says moodily, “How can you go on? You should be the worst off of all of us!”

 

“Because Fred and I built the shop together and if I stop working and let it all crumble it would be like dishonouring him. I have to keep going because he wouldn’t want me to stop. I know I wouldn’t want him to if this whole thing was reversed,” George says softly.

 

Ron looks out at the lake and sighs.

 

“What do I do now?” he says.

 

“Come work with me?” George asks.

 

Ron eyes him suspiciously for a moment and says, “Don’t try to make me Fred’s replacement. I’m not him. I can’t be.”

 

“I’m not asking you to. It’s just…I need help at the shop. I don’t know how to do this by myself,” George pleads.

 

Ron studies the lake for a moment and watches a fish bobbing near the surface. It catches something in its mouth and swims away.

 

“Okay,” he agrees, “But it’s only temporary. As soon as you find someone else I’m gone.”

 

“Consider it a deal. We’ll go to Diagon Alley in a bit and see just what sort of state the shop’s in. Can’t be too bad with all the protection charms we put on it but you never know,” George tells him.

 

He gets up and wanders back in the general direction of the Burrow, leaving Ron to wonder just what he’s gotten himself into.

 

Later that day, Pigwidgeon returns but he bears no letter. Ron wasn’t expecting an answer but has to admit that he feels crushed by the lack of response. The brown and white barn owl also returns, bearing news that Hermione and her parents are safely back in the country and moving into a new house together. She plans to return to Hogwarts in the fall and her letter strongly urges Ron to do the same. As before, she asks that Ron write her with any news of Harry.

 

Ron thinks about crumpling up her letter and tossing it away but he can’t bring himself to do it. Hermione is his only connection to the companionship he had during Hogwarts and he’s loath to lose it over something as stupid as being rejected romantically. Instead he takes out a fresh piece of parchment and writes back to her. He tells her about deciding against returning to Hogwarts, about George’s need for help with the joke shop and how it’s only temporary. Then he wishes her good luck with her studies and promises to write if Harry turns up. When the letter goes off with the barn owl he retires to bed.

 

He tosses and turns for nearly an hour before deciding he can’t sleep. Ron gets out of bed and pads down the kitchen with the intention of making himself some tea. Instead he ends up at the table with the Daily Prophet spread out before him. There are scores of articles about the war and most of them feature Harry. Ron stares hungrily at one particular photo of Harry taken while he was still at Hogwarts. In it, Harry’s looking out the castle window, dressed in his Quidditch gear with his Firebolt in hand. An arrow of pain pierces Ron’s heart and he winces as the ache blossoms unrelentingly within his chest. He misses his best friend more than anyone could ever know.

 

The need to connect with Harry is suddenly too much and Ron finds his eyes burning. He swipes at them roughly before getting up from the kitchen table. After rummaging around in the junk drawer he comes up with a ratty quill, a half-empty bottle of green ink, and a scrap of parchment.

 

 _Please tell me you’re alive_ he scribbles. _It’s okay if you don’t want to be found. Just let me know that you’re all right so I don’t worry that you’ve gone off somewhere to die by your own wand. I miss you. – Ron._

He pokes Pigwidgeon several times to wake him up. Pig hoots grumpily at being given a second delivery so soon but perks up when the letter is tied to his leg; he’s never one to shy from a delivery so he’s out of the window in seconds. Ron heads up to bed where he cries for a bit until he falls asleep.

 

In the morning he knows he looks like hell as he sits as the table eating his oatmeal with a scowl on his face. He watches as Arthur whispers something to Molly with a nod in his direction; Ron knows his family is worried about him but he can’t bring himself to care. George saunters in and plops himself into the vacant chair across from Ron.

 

“Would it be all right if we went to the shop today? Lee says the front window is broken but I want to see for myself,” he says.

 

“Okay,” Ron mutters.

 

“I’m so glad you’re helping George. You need to get out more. You can’t just sit in your room forever,” Molly admonishes.

 

Ron gives her a look that clearly says _back off_ but she’s not one to be intimidated easily.

 

“You stop that Ronald Weasley. I know that you’re upset because your friends have gone but you have to start living for yourself. “

 

“So you’re okay with not knowing where Harry is then?” Ron snaps.

 

“Harry will turn up when he’s ready. All of my owls have come back without their letters so I know he’s alive somewhere. He just needs some time,” Molly says, although from the tone of her voice she sounds unconvinced.

 

“We’ll be going now, mum. Lots to do today,” George says and Ron shoots him a grateful look.

 

The windows from the shop are indeed broken but there’s nothing to be done for them at the moment. George places a call to a window company and gets an appointment for someone to come out and have a look next Tuesday. Ron wanders the shop checking on the merchandise. He finds that most of it seems to be intact aside from a stack of collapsed shelves in the far corner and a few expired potions. As he starts sifting through the disaster of smashed bottles amid the broken shelves, George appears.

 

“Doesn’t seem to be too bad, does it?” he asks.

 

“Yeah, it’ll be easy to clean up and get back to business…if you want,” Ron says hesitantly.

 

George’s gaze wanders over to a photo of him and Fred on the shop wall behind the registers. It was taken the day they opened the store.

 

“Yeah, I want to,” he croaks.

 

Ron pretends that he doesn’t see the tears threatening.


	3. Chapter 3

Ron moves into the flat above the shop with George. Neither of them can bear to touch Fred’s bedroom so he sleeps on the sofa. He doesn’t complain though. His only other option is to live at the Burrow and right now he wants to be as far away from there as possible. 

Together they repair what little damage the shop has sustained, throw out the expired products, and bring in new stock. A short, balding wizard from Wetzel’s Windows shows up and appraises the damage. He orders new window panes, to be installed in a week. For the time being, George boards over the broken glass. Ron thinks it looks terrible but it matches the other stores in Diagon Alley, which are in a similar state. With nothing else left to do, they decide to re-open the shop. 

Business is slow at first as most of the shops are still in the rebuilding stages, many of them having sustained worse damage than Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. Ron also notices that there are very few children around. When Fred and George had first opened the shop, scores of kids from Hogwarts had poured in, eager to spend their pocket money. With Hogwarts shuttered until at least November (according to the rebuild schedule) and most families keeping their children as close to home as possible, the place sits empty. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Ron asks George, “I mean look at this place!”

He gestures to the empty space around them. George’s face darkens and he outright glares at Ron.

“We have to,” is all he says before turning away and heading into the stock room.

George does that a lot lately. When he can’t face something he hides in the stock room until he’s ready to come out. Ron never bothers him; it’s not like there are many customers to help anyway. He wanders off to straighten some shelves but gets distracted by the tap, tap, tap of an owl’s beak on the window. 

It’s the brown and white barn owl again, bearing a letter from Hermione. Ron opens it and finds a long-winded letter describing the Grangers’ new house. He’s not sure he understands half of what Hermione’s talking about because it’s so, well, Muggle but it sounds like a nice place. She closes by telling Ron that she’s going to be at Diagon Alley for her school supplies come fall and she’ll stop in to see him. Ron notices that there’s no mention of Harry this time and he can’t help but feel a bit annoyed by that. _It’s as if she’s forgotten_ he thinks. 

The bell over the shop chimes and Ron stuffs the letter in his pocket as he turns to face his newest customer. It turns out to be an elderly woman looking to buy something for her grandson. Ron helps her to buy some skiving snackboxes and then rings her out at the till. The poor old dear probably has no idea what she’s buying but she seems happy to give her grandson something for his birthday so Ron doesn’t say anything. Besides, the shop needs the sales. Ron’s not the most fantastic at accounting but even he knows that things aren’t going well and that it’s taking its toll on George.


	4. Chapter 4

_I feel like I’ve put my life on hold Ron writes. I have no idea what to do with myself now that you’re not here. I know that’s not your fault but it’s like there’s a piece missing. I guess we never really planned past battling Voldemort, did we? When you’re ready, let me know where you are. I’ll always find you._

_-Ron_

 

Ron sends Pig off with the letter and then flops down on the sofa. In the next room it sounds like George has forgotten his silencing charm. He’s crying again but Ron can’t find it in himself to go to his brother. It would be an invasion of privacy. Instead he casts a muffling charm and blows out the candles. The shop opens early tomorrow and he needs to get some sleep.

 

Ron lies on his side with the blankets yanked over his head and thinks about Harry. It’s maddening, not knowing where his best friend is. He’s followed Harry before – to the ends of the earth and back, in and out of danger, and always without questioning. He’ll do it again if he has to. He’s not sure he can afford that same loyalty to Hermione though. He decides that she was right to put a stop to their relationship before it really got going. It was simply a ridiculous childhood crush taken too far and they both would have been miserable and trapped. Ron resolves not to be so angry with Hermione anymore; it’s time to let that go lest he lose his other best friend.

 

In the morning, Ron wakes up to find George lying on the kitchen floor with an empty bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey in his hand. A pang of regret hits him right in the chest as he realizes that he should have seen to George the night before. Ron nudges him gently.

 

“George? George, wake up!” he says.

 

George cracks an eye and mutters, “Turn off the sun, Fred,” before becoming unresponsive again. Sighing heavily, Ron levitates his hungover brother back to bed. He closes the bedroom door and then gets ready to open the shop. For a brief moment he wonders if he should send an owl to his parents about George’s behaviour but then decides against it. George deserves to mourn Fred in his own way without their mother’s overpowering interference.

 

George repeats the performance several times. Ron always finds him somewhere in the flat, sometimes still drunk from the night before and always in the company of a bottle of firewhisky. Ron puts him to bed and opens the shop by himself. Business is beginning to pick up in Diagon Alley now that the shops are starting to open to the public again and there are more customers than ever before. Ron copes on his own for a while but after one particularly awful day in which the line snakes back to the door, he decides he’s had enough.

 

“You need to hire someone, preferably several someones,” Ron says one night over dinner.

 

George gulps his drink and mumbles, “Yeah, I guess.”

 

“What are you drinking?” Ron asks sourly.

 

“Firewhiskey. I like it…takes the edge off things,” George says.

 

Ron’s temper finally flares and grabs the glass from George’s hand. It shatters in the corner of the kitchen with a resounding crash as shards of glass splinter everywhere.

 

“You are not going to drink your life away!” Ron shouts.

 

“Fuck you! You have no idea what it’s like!” George snaps.

 

“You think I don’t know how this feels? Maybe you didn’t notice but I lost a brother too. It’s been hard for everyone, you know. And yet here I am, trying to help you get back on your feet and not lose this stupid shop because it meant so much to you and Fred!” Ron says angrily.

 

“Yeah, well you’re doing a rubbish job!” George shouts.

 

“ **You** asked **me** for help if I recall correctly. You’re the one who wanted to go back to work right away. You’re the one who wanted me to move in here. You’re the one who promised me you wouldn’t expect me to replace Fred but I know you wish I was him. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ll never be Fred!” Ron bellows.

 

“No, obviously not,” George snarls as he stalks over to the kitchen cupboard.

 

He yanks out another glass and the bottle of firewhiskey. Ron rushes to grab the bottle and George punches him square in the nose. The two of them crash to the floor, rolling around in the broken glass and spilled whiskey, landing blows to wherever they can reach. It all comes to an end when George knocks his head on the table and opens a gash on top of his scalp that bleeds like mad. The two of them lay there on the kitchen floor, panting and swearing with the agony of it all.  Finally Ron sits up and gingerly touches his face. His fingers come away wet with blood.

 

“I dink you broke by dose,” he says.

 

“Look at my head,” George moans.

 

He gets up and fetches their wands. Ron is able to quickly repair the cut in George’s scalp. It isn’t that bad really, it just bleeds a lot. George makes a valiant attempt to set Ron’s nose but it heals with a slight scar near the bridge. Ron helps George into the living room, sits him down on the sofa, and fetches him a glass of water.

 

“No more firewhiskey, please,” Ron begs.

 

“This isn’t working. I don’t know how to do this without Fred,” George says tearfully.

 

“You need to take some time away,” Ron says gently, “Look at you. You weren’t ready for this but you jumped right back into working again. Stop pretending everything is fine. Stop drinking and just deal with it.”

 

“I can’t. Would you have any idea of how to run the shop completely on your own?” George asks.

 

“I do it already when you’re too hungover to stand!” Ron protests.

 

“Ron you put stock away and man the register. What about advertising or hiring staff? What about creating new stock to replace what’s been bought? Half of those things Fred and I invented together. You wouldn’t have a clue where to start,” George says.

 

“So close the bloody place then! Just stop forcing me to peel you off the floor in the mornings!” Ron snaps.

 

The colour drains from George’s face.

 

“We’ve put so much into this place. I can’t walk away,” he says mournfully, “This was our dream. I don’t want it to be a waste.”

 

“It’ll be wasted if you aren’t sober and ready to work every day,” Ron tells him.

 

George breaks down into sobs and Ron holds him until he has no more tears left to cry.

 

“I need to keep going for him but sometimes I don’t know how. Help me,” George whispers.

 

“I will,” Ron promises.


	5. Chapter 5

During the next month George doesn’t drink nearly so much as he’s done before. He switches his mourning ritual to going into Fred’s room and shutting the door for hours at a time. Ron doesn’t ask what he’s doing in there so long as it doesn’t involve copious amounts of alcohol.

 

They put up a help wanted sign on the shop and get several promising interviews. In the end they decide to hire five assistants: three witches and two wizards. Ron finds that having someone to help out with the stocking, cleaning, and running the register takes the pressure off him immensely.  Business is also beginning to boom again and the store is doing well financially. In fact, Ron finds himself sort of shunted into the position of Store Manager since George spends a lot of time shut up in the office these days while trying to invent new products.

 

Ron knows he should be pleased with all of this but he still feels empty inside. He won’t be whole again until Harry returns…if Harry returns. He refuses to believe that Harry won’t contact him. They’ve been best mates long enough that surely he’ll send some sign, right?

 

One night Ron digs through a box of his things Molly sent from the Burrow.  There are some old Quidditch magazines, a hairbrush, his Chudley Cannons quilt, and a bunch of other miscellaneous odds and ends. Most of them Ron puts aside to look at later. He doesn’t know what his mother expects him to do with it all when he doesn’t even have his own room.

 

Ron unfolds his quilt and is startled when something small falls out of it. It’s the deluminator, which he thought he had lost. He picks it up and clicks it, thinking hard about Harry. It’s taken him where he needs to go once before; maybe it will do the same now. Ron waits for the little ball of light to touch his heart once again and feels horribly disappointed when nothing happens. He pockets the deluminator for safekeeping and flops down dejectedly on the sofa.

 

He wonders if he’ll end up spending his entire life here, waiting for Harry, while everyone else moves on with theirs. Maybe it’s better to take his cues from Hermione and make his own plans. Otherwise, if Harry never returns, he’ll be in the same situation as he is now. He’ll wither and grow old having wasted his life and his dreams in a shop. During his career session with Professor McGonagall he told her he wanted to be an Auror. He wants that even now but it was supposed to be him and Harry together. He’s not sure he can make it through without his best friend.

 

 _Another month and another letter, even though I’m pretty sure you’re not reading any of them_ Ron writes to Harry. _It’s okay though. If you do read them, I want you to know that I still care about you. I don’t give a fuck about anything else but you at the moment. Just answer me. Tell me whatever you want. Tell me you want to be left alone or that you hate me or that you’ve changed your name and aren’t coming back. Tell me to fuck off if that’s what you want. Just answer me and let me know that you’re alive._

_-Ron_

 

 

Ron decides that staying here with George forever won’t happen. He’s going to find a way out, even if it doesn’t present itself right away, even if it kills him. He’s going to find Harry one way or another.

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Every night Ron thinks of Harry and presses the button on the deluminator. Every night nothing happens and he feels disappointment slice into his heart like a knife. He sleeps fitfully, dreaming of Harry and all manner of awful things that could have happened to him. In some dreams Harry is far away and Ron runs and runs but can’t reach him. In others, he begs Harry to return only to have his best friend spit cruel words at him.

 

Ron knows he looks tired. It’s nearing November now and Hogwarts has been repaired just slightly ahead of schedule. That means children of all ages pouring into the shops to check out the latest gadgets. George has thrown himself into inventing with an almost manic enthusiasm that honestly worries Ron a bit. He hopes to have a new product any day now. Ron just hopes that George comes out of the office soon. He doesn’t feel like much playing the jovial, customer service oriented shopkeeper these days.

 

Hermione stops in on her way to get her school supplies and says, “Ron you look… It’s good to see you.”

 

“I look dreadful, don’t I?” he asks.

 

“What have you been doing to yourself? Have you been shut up in this shop here with George this entire time?”

 

“Pretty much,” Ron says sheepishly.

 

Hermione grabs him by the arms and frog-marches him behind the display of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.

 

“Ron you have to stop. Stop waiting around for him. Move on with your life and do something that makes you happy,” she hisses.

 

“Don’t you care? Doesn’t anyone care about what happened to him or where he is? He’s the bloody saviour of the wizarding world and it’s like everyone’s forgotten him!” Ron snaps.

 

Hermione looks crestfallen for a moment but then she pats his shoulder in a sympathetic gesture.

 

“I care; we all care. But the fact is that he’s gone and doesn’t want to be found. We don’t know if he’s even coming back so we have to go on,” she says.

 

“I don’t know how,” Ron says.

 

“Just think about it. You’ll find where you want to be,” Hermione reassures him.

 

Ron doesn’t know how to tell her that the only place he wants to be is with Harry. He spends the rest of his day in a daze, feeling even worse off than before. It shows so badly that George, on a rare break from inventing, tries to send him upstairs to lie down for a while. Ron resists and manages to power through the rest of his shift but he knows that he must look a sight.

When the day is over, he closes the shop and prepares to head back to the flat for a cup of tea and whatever provisions he can find in the cupboard. A tapping noise startles him and he finds a white snowy owl just outside the window. Ron opens the door to let it in and unties the roll of parchment from its leg.

 

It’s the last letter he wrote to Harry. At the bottom in Harry’s untidy scrawl is _I’m not ready to be found yet._ Ron takes the parchment upstairs and collapses into the nearest chair. He doesn’t know if he should be elated that he’s heard from Harry or sad that he won’t see his best friend any time soon. He has to admit that this isn’t exactly how he pictured Harry’s response. George finds him there some time later, having not moved an inch. 

“I thought you were going to make dinner tonight?” he asks.

 

“Oh, sorry,” Ron says faintly.

 

George squats down beside Ron’s chair and tries to pry the parchment out of his hand. Ron grips it tighter and tries to stuff it into his pocket.

 

“C’mon, let me see!” George urges.

 

Ron doesn’t want to tear the parchment so he relents, even if it means his brother gets to read something that should have been private.

 

George hands the parchment back and says, “I’m sorry Ron. Is this why you’ve been so out of sorts today?”

 

“That and Hermione telling me I need to move on again,” Ron mutters.

 

George pats his arm somewhat awkwardly as he says, “She’s right you know. Don’t wait around for Harry. He’ll let you know when it’s time.”

 

Ron doesn’t say anything to that. He gets up from his chair and goes into the kitchen to start dinner.


	7. Chapter 7

It’s December now and all of the shops in Diagon Alley are festooned with decorations. Swaths of fairy lights decorate the rooftops along with miniature moving displays of Christmas scenes in the windows and trees several feet tall. Outside, the buildings are dusted with the first snowfall of the year, making it chilly but not terribly so yet. The bone rattling cold that often hits them has yet to arrive.

 

George insists on getting a tree for the shop and decorating it with Wheezes products during what is supposed to be a fun filled afternoon for the staff. To Ron it feels more like forced cheer but he doesn’t want to be labelled a Scrooge (someone awful he learned about from one of his father’s muggle books) so he behaves with as much enthusiasm as he can muster. He knows George is doing the same thing, trying to keep himself together and keep traditions alive during his first Christmas without Fred. Twice Ron finds him in the office hiding from prying eyes so he can cry. He offers George what little comfort he can but he knows it’s not enough. Like so many others who have lost loved ones in the war, it’s going to be rough for their entire family. Ron wonders if his mother will be able to survive.

 

Ron has stopped writing to Harry. His last words are _let me know when it’s time._ After that he simply waits. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get through Christmas without Fred or Harry. He’s never known a holiday without his brother and it’s been seven years since he’s spent one without Harry. Still, he holds out hope. He even goes so far as to buy Harry a Christmas gift but he puts it away for safe keeping.

 

Five days before Christmas and Ron has just about had enough of the Christmas cheer. After closing the shop for the day he trudges up to the flat, bone weary with exhaustion from dealing with hordes of crazed shoppers all searching for the perfect gift. All he wants is to go to sleep early. _How exciting_ he thinks.

 

George is locked in the office again working on his newest invention. He’s been burning the candle at both ends lately and Ron wonders how he does it. He comes to the conclusion that it must be another one of George’s desperate attempts to forget about the pain he feels as it draws closer to Christmas. Ron eats a solitary meal and then undresses for bed. He’s just settled down onto the sofa when he hears movement outside the window. Then there’s the sharp tapping of an owl’s beak against the pane so Ron gets up to let it in. It’s the snowy owl that delivered Harry’s last letter.

 

Ron unties the parchment from its leg with trembling fingers. It’s been weeks since Harry’s written and he’s not sure what to expect. The parchment contains one line, _It’s time_ , and Ron drops it onto the floor in shock. Then his brain catches up and he’s searching frantically for his clothes. He pulls on jeans, a woolen jumper, and his dragon hide coat and boots. Lastly, he grabs the deluminator and clicks it. Like before, a tiny ball of white light appears and shoots straight into his chest so Ron closes his eyes and disapparates without hesitation.

 

He lands in the middle of a raging snowstorm somewhere in a forest of gnarled, bare trees with icy wind whipping around him to steal the very warmth from his bones. Ron yanks his coat closer around himself and wishes fervently that he’d thought to bring some mittens and a hat. In the middle of a small grove of trees he spots a heavy canvas tent, reminding him rather uncomfortably of the one he spent nearly a year in with Harry and Hermione while chasing Horcruxes. He feels a familiar nervousness building in his stomach but he doesn’t want to freeze to death so he heads for the tent.

 

As he peaks inside the front entrance, Ron realizes that this isn’t the exact tent they camped in but the layout is very similar. The exterior chamber contains a washbasin on a stand, a small collection of cooking pots, and a tattered rug. A rather old fashioned looking stove sits along one wall with a fire lit in its grate. A set of stairs leads to two chambers; one has the drapes open to reveal a table that can comfortably seat at least six people while to the left the drapes to the sleeping area are closed.

 

In the middle of the tent Harry is sitting in a battered armchair with his feet pointed toward the stove.

 

“Harry!” Ron cries and he’s crouched down beside Harry’s chair in an instant.

 

“Hello Ron. I knew you’d come,” Harry says dully.

 

Ron takes in the man before him. Harry looks like he hasn’t had a haircut in months and his normally untidy hair has grown past his collar. His face looks tired and drawn and he’s rail thin, leaving Ron to surmise that he hasn’t been eating properly. Even his clothes look like they’ve seen better days. His jacket has several spots where Ron can identify clumsily done patching charms and his jeans are threadbare. On his feet are a pair of worn dragon hide boots that look at least two sizes too big.

 

“How long have you been here?” Ron demands.

 

“A few months; when I couldn’t run anymore I came here. You might as well sit down.”

 

Harry takes his wand from his jacket pocket and conjures another shabby armchair which Ron flops into gratefully.

 

“You didn’t write for months!” Ron accuses, fixing his friend with a glare that would make his mother proud.

 

He never thought he’d be angry upon seeing Harry again but now he feels furious.

 

“You didn’t tell us where you were! Mum’s been worried sick about you. **I’ve** been worried about you! What the bloody hell have you been doing all this time?”

 

Harry gets up warily from his chair and shuffles across to the jumble of cooking pots. He plucks out a dented old kettle and sets about making them some tea. The silence stretches between them like a chasm as Ron waits for an answer.

 

Finally Harry says, “I couldn’t stay there and face what I’d done.”

 

“What you’d done?” Ron echoes, “You mean saving the entire world by defeating the most evil wizard in history?”

 

“You don’t understand,” Harry says.

 

Ron jumps up from his chair and stalks across the room to seize Harry by the arms. Harry might have fought him once but this time he just stands there and endures Ron’s fingers cutting into his skin through his jacket.

 

“Then make me understand!” he cries.

 

Harry wrenches himself out of Ron’s grip and turns away as if ashamed.

 

“All of those people are dead because of me! They thought I was going to save them and I got them killed. I shouldn’t have asked for their help; I should have told them to run!” he shouts.

 

“They made their choice. They could have left but they didn’t,” Ron points out.

 

“They stayed because I asked them to! I asked them to give themselves so we had time! Harry snarls.

 

Ron, however, is not to be deterred by his friend’s anger.

 

“What were we supposed to do? If they hadn’t bought us some time we wouldn’t have been able to destroy the horcruxes. You might have been able to defeat Voldemort on your own but then a part of him would have survived. He might even have killed you and where would we be then? I don’t fancy living under Death Eater rule, do you?”

 

Harry finally turns to look at Ron.

 

“No one else is going to die, not for me,” he says fiercely.

 

Ron lets out an exasperated sigh.

 

“The war’s over mate; no more deaths. Look, you might have been the chosen one but it was a whole lot bigger than that. Our freedom was at stake and damned if any of us were going to give that up! We followed you because it was the best chance we had of winning. Even without you we all would have fought to the bitter end,” he says.

Harry scuffs the toe of his boots on the floor of the tent.

 

“I can’t go home yet,” he says.

 

“Then why owl me? You know I’m going to try to make you,” Ron warns.

 

“I just…wanted to see you. But I can’t go home, not yet. Stay with me?” Harry asks.

 

“Always,” Ron says.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Even with the stove and several warming charms Ron finds the tent a bit chilly. Cold seeps in at every crack and crevice, leaving him to wonder just how Harry can stand to live like this. His gaze rests on his friend, who is leaning over to add more wood to the fire.

 

“Harry?”

 

Harry mutters an absent-minded, “Hm?” before returning his attentions to the fire.

 

“How have you been surviving out here? I mean you’re so bloody famous it must make it impossible for you to get food and supplies without someone noticing,” Ron says.

 

Harry explains patiently as though speaking to a child, “Ron there’s a muggle village nearby. Nobody knows me there.”

 

“Oh,” is all Ron can say but he doesn’t feel too ridiculous when he sees Harry smile for the first time since he’s come here.

 

“You are a daft sod, you know that?” Harry says affectionately.

 

“Yep, that’s me,” Ron says.

 

Harry sits down in his favourite chair and the silence stretches between them. That seems to be happening a lot since Ron turned up.

 

“Ron,” Harry says abruptly, “There’s another reason why I left. It’s why I didn’t answer your letters for a while. I was having trouble dealing with it. I know I’ve been an absolutely rubbish friend but I just couldn’t…”he trails off, dropping his gaze to his feet. His face begins to redden.

 

“Couldn’t what?” Ron enquires and he feels genuinely confused.

 

“I couldn’t tell you. Ron, you were one of my first friends. Before that I didn’t have any friends thanks to Dudley. You know I wouldn’t ruin that, right? I mean you and Hermione-“

 

“We’re not together,” Ron interjects.

 

“What?” Harry is clearly gobsmacked at this news.

 

“It never happened. I mean we did kiss and all but we were never **together** together, you know?”

 

Harry sputters, “Oh… Ron, are you…would you…” but he can’t seem to divulge whatever he needs to say.

 

“For Merlin’s sake Harry, I’m your best mate. You can tell me anything so spit it out!” Ron says.

Harry falls silent and fiddles with the cuff of his jacket.

 

“Whatever it is, I’m not going to get angry, I swear,” Ron promises.

 

“It’s just…I don’t know if it’s the same in the wizarding world as in the muggle world because some things aren’t…I mean is it normal for two blokes to fancy each other? Uncle Vernon always said it was unnatural,” Harry rambles.

 

Ron tries not to laugh but a chuckle slips out.

 

“You think I’d stop being friends with you because you’re gay? Harry, you berk! That’s such a stupid reason to ruin a ruin a friendship!”

 

“You sure as hell won’t want to be friends with me for doing this,” Harry says and he surges out of his chair to crush his lips against Ron’s.

 

For a moment Ron isn’t sure how to react and he feels himself freeze. He’s never thought about kissing another man before; never really let himself explore any possibility other than being straight. But in this moment Harry’s lips are warm and pliant and Ron feels like it’s exactly what he’s been missing all these months. It’s not like kissing Hermione or Lavender; this is so much better and he never wants it to end. When Harry starts to pull away, Ron wraps an arm around him and drags him closer to prolong the kiss. Then the urge to breathe becomes too much and they’re forced to break apart.

 

Ron tries to think of something, anything, to say but it seems like his brain has chosen this moment to desert him. He’s acutely aware of Harry saying, “Ron?” but for a moment he can’t manage to respond.

 

Finally he says, “That was-“

 

“Yeah,” Harry breathes.

 

For a moment Ron doesn’t move. He just stands there drinking in the sight of Harry with his kiss-swollen lips and baffled expression.

 

“I never thought you’d want me,” Harry says.

 

“I didn’t know until you were gone,” Ron tells him.

 

Then he’s swooping in and taking Harry in his arms like something out of those bad muggle romance novels his mother likes.

 

“It’s always been you,” Harry murmurs against Ron’s shoulder, “I knew for a long time but I didn’t want to face it.”

 

“What about you and Ginny?” Ron asks.

 

“We broke up. I told myself and her that I did it because I wanted to keep her safe but deep down I knew that wasn’t true. It was because I was with the wrong person,” Harry says.

 

“The wrong Weasley,” Ron snickers and he can feel Harry smile into his shoulder.

 

Harry doesn’t say anything else and Ron can feel him shivering despite the heat from the stove.

 

He hugs Harry’s smaller frame closer to him and says, “This tent is rubbish. I haven’t been so bloody cold in my entire life.”

 

“I bought it second-hand. I think some of the charms have worn down and I’m not sure how to reset them,” Harry says in almost apologetic tone.

 

He takes Ron’s hand and leads him up the stairs to the area where the closed curtains are. They open to reveal a double bed with several blankets piled high and a small portable stove jammed in at the foot.

 

“Body heat?” Ron asks.

 

“I highly doubt I’ll be seducing you yet,” Harry says mildly.

 

They undress and climb into the bed. Harry lights the portable heater with a flick of his wand and then curls up at Ron’s side.  For a moment he seems unsure of what he’s doing but then he lays his head onto his friend’s chest. Ron wraps an arm around him and it’s as much to keep Harry from pulling away as it is an affectionate gesture.

 

“I wish you’d come home with me,” Ron murmurs.

 

He knows he’s said the wrong thing as he feels Harry tense against him.

 

“I told you I can’t, not just yet,” Harry says.

 

“It’s Christmas. Just come home for a few days and celebrate; then you can leave again,” Ron begs.

 

“Everyone will ask me why I left and then they’ll want me to stay. I’ll feel awful for saying no,” Harry complains.

 

“You don’t have to stay; just let everyone know that you’re alive and safe for the holiday. As soon as it’s over you can leave again if you want to,” Ron says.

 

“Would you come with me?” Harry asks hopefully.

 

“Yeah. We’d have to get a better tent though. This thing is rubbish!” Ron says.

 

Harry chuckles against his shoulder and says, “Everyone’s going to think we’re barking.”

 

“Let them,” Ron declares.

 

“All right,” Harry agrees, “We’ll go back but we’re not staying.”

 

His tone brooks no argument but Ron isn’t about to put up a fight. The only place he wants to be is wherever Harry is and he’ll gladly make his home there.

 

 

 

 


End file.
